[This is the opening of a novel that could be a stand-alone, or could have a sequel or two. If it becomes a series, the series title is “Signs of Power.”]<\/p>\n
The sign-reader sat quietly in the corner, huddled over a mug of dark beer, staring down into the liquid. He was not exactly thinking about the girl he had just identified, and what was to become of her, but neither could he think about anything else; the awareness that he had set her irrevocably on the path she would follow for decades, perhaps for her entire life, left no room for other concerns.<\/p>\n
But he could not really think<\/i> about her, all the same; his mind was too muddled for that. Every time he tried to tell himself that he had condemned her to what amounted to slavery, he was reminded that she would be honored, that she would wield powerful magic that was necessary to the community, that her role was essential to the survival of her people.<\/p>\n
But she would have no choice about it; the people who lived under the Dragon\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Breath could not afford to let her choose.<\/p>\n
And she might even enjoy it; she would be grown by the time she was brought to the temple, no longer the scared child he had seen that afternoon.<\/p>\n
None of this was new to him; he had been wandering these lands for twenty years and more, identifying all those touched by the Dragon\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Breath, and had asked himself every possible question, thrashed out every possible outcome, a hundred times.<\/p>\n
He just hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t yet arrived at any really satisfying answers.<\/p>\n
He looked up at the sound of a door opening and voices conversing quietly; he could make out none of the words, but thought the accents sounded local. Probably just someone come to the public house for a drink, he told himself, and dropped his gaze back to the beer.<\/p>\n
He lifted the mug and took a swig.<\/p>\n
When he lowered it again he found himself looking at a thin man in a damp brown cloak, who was staring directly at him from the entryway. The stranger stood somewhat hunched, with his hands clasped at his breastbone; the face half-hidden by the hooded cloak, and the fingers folded on his chest, were almost inhumanly white.<\/p>\n
The sign-reader stared back for a moment, then lowered his beer and said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Can I help you, friend?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153They say you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re a sign-reader,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the man said, in an unsteady tenor.<\/p>\n
The sign-reader sighed and brushed the hair from his forehead, exposing the indentation there, a thumb-sized depression like the healed-over socket of a lost third eye.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I assume even you<\/i> can read that<\/i> sign,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I heard… I mean, yes. Then you are<\/i> a sign-reader.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I am. Why?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He was fairly sure what he was going to hear; some local youth had acquired an odd scar, or a babe had been born with a caul, or perhaps an old woman had had a strange dream, and the family wanted to know what it meant.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153A child… a child has been born. My nephew. My sister\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s child. We aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t sure whether he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll live.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153He has a mark of some kind?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s more… it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not just a mark<\/i>, sir. Could you come and see, please, and tell us what we should do?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
The sign-reader sighed deeply and looked down at the beer.<\/p>\n
Duty called. The babe was probably just an unhappy mishap that would be dead by dawn, the result of a bad mix of bloodlines, but there was always that chance that he was something more, something marked by the Dragon\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Breath, tainted with the magic that kept the Restored Lands alive, just as the sign-reader himself was.<\/p>\n
His magic was to read the signs of the Dragon\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Breath, and his duty was to use this whenever he was called upon, so he would have to go \u00e2\u20ac\u201c but that didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t mean leaving his beer. He lifted the mug and gulped until the last drop had trickled down either his throat or his beard, then let the vessel fall back to the table. He rose, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and scooping his coat and hat up from a chair with the other.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Show me,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said.<\/p>\n
The man in the cloak turned to lead him to the door, but then the landlord was there beside him. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Sir, about the…\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be back tonight,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the sign-reader said, cutting him off. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll settle my bill in the morning.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, we could find you a bed…\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the stooped man began.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the sign-reader said. He turned to the landlord again. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be back. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve left my bag upstairs.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Is there anything you need, to judge the child?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the cloaked man asked.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No. Lead on.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
The man ducked his head in something that might have been either a nod or a bow, and hurried down the entryway to the front door, tugging the hood of his cloak up to cover his head better.<\/p>\n
The sign-reader donned his own coat, glad now that he had not bothered to remove his boots before getting his beer, and clapped his hat on his head.<\/p>\n
The cloaked man lifted the latch and swung the door inward; a swirl of cold mist blew into the entryway, and the sign-reader pulled his coat tighter as he followed the other out into the foggy chill of a marsh-country night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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